


Fulfilled A Dying Wish

by afteriwake



Series: nongentorum [46]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Criminal Past, Drinking to Cope, Dying Wish, Gen, POV Molly Hooper, Poor Molly, Reminiscing, Sad Molly, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Troubled Past, Understanding Sherlock, sad thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the course of a case, Sherlock discovers a secret from Molly’s past and she ruminates on her past afterward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fulfilled A Dying Wish

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by an anonymous prompt I got from Tumblr that went " _Sherlock uncovers Molly's turbulent adolescence in a case. She had quite a rap sheet full of petty crime cases. She'd only turned her life around in compliance with her father's dying wish. Sherlock finally realizes he's not beneath her._ " I tweaked it slightly to write it from Molly's point of view for Day 4 of Molly Appreciation Week (Flying Solo).

“ _Do things that make you happy within the confines of the legal system._ ”

Molly sat on the padded seat she had by her window and watched the rain fall outside. Her father had said those words to her as his dying wish, and they’d stayed with her ever since she was a teenager in Bozeat. She’d been rebellious and troublesome, wracking up a long list of charges for petty crimes but nothing very serious. She’d been very careful to never get involved in anything _serious_. And she had thought she had put it all behind her when she’d cleaned up her act at her father’s request, done her best in school and straightened up and been a straight arrow in uni and gone to medical school and done her mother proud. Done her father proud, if he’d lived to see it.

At least until today.

She took a sip of her wine and contemplated all that Sherlock had told her. There had been a massive leak of sealed juvenile records. Hers was among them. He didn’t think it would do much damage and Mycroft was doing everything he could to ensure no one would see her scandalous past. But really, that wasn’t the point. She’d put it behind her and someone had dredged it up and piled nine hundred metric tons of bad memories in her head and on her heart today.

Oh, all the trouble and heartache she had put her parents through with her shenanigans. And she hadn’t cared! She hadn’t cared until it had been too late, until her father had been on his deathbed. She could have been better, could have been a better daughter and been a good person. That was the crux of it, that deep down at her core she always wondered if she was a good person for putting her mum and dad through so much hell when she was younger, especially when her dad got ill. They hadn’t needed it and she’d been selfish, so very selfish.

She knew her mum said it was because she was young, and that it was a phase, and that she loved her and her father had loved her just the same, but that still didn’t make it okay. It was still such a horrid thing she had done. Even as she and her mum slowly healed the gaping holes in their hearts when her dad was gone, and they learned to rely on each other and they grew close, she still felt like such a horrid daughter because she had hurt her, hurt her father, and now it seemed like it didn’t matter. But it _did_. Didn’t it?

She had some more of her wine and contemplated Sherlock’s reaction. He seemed...not surprised, exactly. Maybe a little, but not entirely, as though he’d expected she had harbored some deep, dark secret. But he also seemed relieved, in a way. Perhaps as though they were equals? She wasn’t sure. It seemed as though he felt that something between them had changed but she wasn’t sure what. But he was softer towards her. Considerate. Caring, even. He had been more lately but today there had been a marked difference. And it was nice. She hoped it was something that continued.

Maybe they were more alike than they were different after all, she thought to herself. He had told her bits and pieces of his childhood and teen years, and while they didn’t struggle in the same ways they both did struggle. Maybe the ways they lashed out were different but neither of them kept their pain to themselves. They were hurting and they chose to hurt others. Sherlock had just chosen to hurt others by abusing drugs and she had done so by vandalizing things and petty theft and other acts of crime that had usually gotten her off with a warning or community service or a fine. She had been luckier than he had been, so much luckier. But maybe that was why she had felt that she understood him, at least a little. And maybe that was why he opened himself up to her. Maybe he had seen that she and he were similar without knowing why.

After a moment she realized she had finished her wine and went to get more. There wasn’t much to do at the moment than to wait and see what the damage was, if there was any damage at all. Perhaps she would be lucky and Mycroft would be able to contain it. Perhaps she would be that lucky. If he wasn’t, perhaps it would be minimal. After all, none of her crimes were _serious_ crimes, and no one had been hurt and she’d paid her dues for everything she had done. She had paid her debts to society. And if people couldn’t reconcile the upstanding woman she was now to the brash and reckless and rather stupid teenager she had been then, then perhaps it was their problem, not hers.

As she refilled her glass and went back to the window seat she knew that only time would tell how it all played out. All she could do was hold her head high and grin and bear it. She had her pride and she knew that she was a good woman _now_. She had tried so hard to be good and that had to count for something.


End file.
